


A Fire's Yearning

by LadyHorizon94



Series: (Not) Mine [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst... SO MUCH angst, Don't read if triggered, Ecto-genitalia implied in one scene on chapter two, Grillby/Sans - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, Manipulation, NONCONSEXUAL FONTCEST, Omppuisapple... I see you there, Physical and Mental Abuse, Resets, Run, Starvation used as a punishment, Suicide Attempt, Threating, Timelines, Underfell AU, WARNING: NONCONSEXUAL INCEST, Warning:, continuation of "I'm (nothing) like you", hurt-comfort, protective!grillby, rape/noncon, sansby - Freeform, this isn't your fic my friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHorizon94/pseuds/LadyHorizon94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just wants Sans to come home. </p><p>Underfell! AU UF!Sansby</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE NOTES BEFORE ACTUAL FIC; WARNING AND INFO HERE. 
> 
> So, this is a straight sequel to my fic: "I'm (Nothing) like you" (Read it before reading this fic, please) which I have actually decided to turn into a series of one-shots and little fics. I'm bad at making multichapter fics since I always leave them hanging. Like this, I can add fics pretty stress-freely. I don't know how fast I can publish and write fics since I got accepted to uni and this year is gonna be busy. BUT! If it looks like I have no time for this series anymore, I'll hand it to someone else to write. :D And if anyone feels like it, feel free to write fics based on these, I don't mind. ^^  
> This was supposed to be one-shot, but it got long and ended up being a two-shot. This is basically about Grillby's and Sans' relationship and Grillby's feelings toward Sans. 
> 
> WARNING: NON-CON, INCEST, FONTCEST, THINKING OF SUICIDE IN CHAPTER 2, ABUSE AND VIOLENCE AND MANIPULATION. DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERED, I BEG OF YOU

**She's in a long black coat tonight**

**waiting for me in a downpour outside**

**She's singning "baby come home" in a melody of tears**

**while the rhythm of a rain keeps time**

- **** _Jet pack blues. By: Fall Out Boy  
_

 

 

Purple flames burn high and hot, filling the dark, already closed bar with uncomfortable, smothering heat as Grillby keeps mopping the floors aggressively, not really seeing the floor – or stains.

Many nights has started like this lately. Even though the monster couldn’t care less about the tidiness of his establishment now days, he still makes sure everything is almost shining, stuck in his routines since he doesn’t have anything else. (Not anymore.)

He is angry. He’s _always_ angry but he has gotten used to it. The feeling of loss and wanting to burn certain captain to dust is always present, always torturing him. Those feelings have made home inside the man’s soul, crawling inside constantly.

This is… Crueler, darker. He doesn’t even know who he hates since the fucker had worn a hood over his face. But… _But…_

He should **_have done something_**. Not just fume there, staying still, overwhelmed with a storm of emotions.

_“If you cared about Sans so much, then why you didn’t protect him?”_

Grillby snarls like a wild animal before he throws a chair in the corner of the bar. The loud crashing sound reaches his ears but the monster couldn’t care less. Those words keep ringing in his head. They sting him, making him loath the stranger (or himself) more.

After the male had vanished, the flame had dashed to the door, looking around madly the only aim being burn the hoodie wearing asshole to the ground. But he had been nowhere to be found, like… he had been an illusion. A hallucination created by guilt-driven mind.

It hadn’t been. Of course not. Other costumers had been able to see him too. It would have been amusing how alert they had been, eyeing the bartender tense, thick layer of silence being the only (useless) shield so Grillby wouldn’t lash out and burn anyone.

No one had talked. No one had dared to. The memory of Doggo burning to the ground, screaming as his HP had got lower and lower -

That had been the last time anyone mocked Grillby and his pain. No one had uttered a word about Sans ever since.

Until –

_“Aaawww, Don’t worry, He’s safe, I’m taking good care of him.”_

He hisses, even if there’s no one to hear him but he doesn’t care. That smug face still haunts him, laughs at him, **_ridicules_ _him._** It’s enough reason to hate the monster, but there’s so much more than that.

Grillby has started to **_hope_**. If the guy talked the truth, then Sans is alive –

The flame could find him –

Hope is the cruelest things in the world. The purple male knows this, has seen it many times. Seen, how it fades away year after year in those monsters’ eyes, which still wait for the day of freedom. Has seen it in Sans’s eyes when his brother had whispered something to him – an empty promise? – cunning and sly smile, full of hidden intensions (none of them good.)

Grillby has felt the hope crush inside him into small, sharp fragments of despair when there was no Sans. And now the fragments tried to pull themselves back together stinging him, scratching him from the inside.

There’s also fear mixed in those fragments. Something in that costumer just hadn’t felt _right_. The skeleton’s clothes had been just too clean, too bright. And yet casual. Nothing special or extraordinary.

It had appeared weird to Grillby. Everyone who belongs in the elite shows it with polished armors and fancy clothes. They do **_not_** walk around with something so simple, as hoodie or cargo pants. But those who aren’t so lucky and have to stick with a status of a common folk carry themselves in filthy, dusty rags.

Of course, there are ways of climb one’s way out of the misery towards at least more decent future. Grillby – or his mom actually – had done so. The flame has a fairly good fortune and he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it. He wears fancy clothes, uses them like peacock. Knowing damn well he isn’t bad to look at. He isn’t exactly elite but anyone – even the most foolish, idiotic monster – knows just by glancing at him that he’s dangerous and he has a status. He’s high on the food chain and that is a lifeline in the Underground.

…The stranger had looked so out of place. And yet… so familiar. Grillby could almost swear he had heard that voice somewhere before. It had been that kind of voice most would have even consider pleasant. It had rung in the air silky smooth and low, quiet order reaching his ears and it had irritated Grillby like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

And the way he talked about Sans had been familiar too. It had been which had sent the flame man being so cautious and full of disgust. He had heard that tone so many times and it never meant anything good. Those words had been too slick and sly, overly smooth and a bit too smug to be sincere. Like Sans was a trophy, not a person.

Grillby had wanted to protect Sans. Not treating like his excuse of a brother or acting like the skeleton was some fucking **_property_**. He had wanted to keep the skeleton safe, not chain him with sick obligations and disgusting intentions.

And he had failed.

Grillby squeezes the edge of the table. Everything in his establishment is fire proofed so even though his flames are getting harder to control with every upsetting thought that enters his mind, nothing burns.

That’s almost a shame. The male wants so badly to vent his frustration, to let his flames dance and consume until nothing is left…

The air inside starts to feel smothering, the walls are falling down to him and suddenly Grillby doesn’t want to be there anymore. The cleaning is useless. The same filth is going to come back the next day, anyway. It doesn’t calm him down, doesn’t satisfy his violent needs. Doesn’t sooth his worries and desperation.

It doesn’t kill his hope.

The male stands up quickly and with steps full of bottomless restlessness as he marches to the door and walks outside. He needs to _think_. At the same time he needs to get away from those torturous memories and thoughts. On bad days, he can practically see Sans, sitting by his counter, sipping his mustard and offering half-hearted puns knowing they would annoy Grillby.

On those days, the bartender is more irritable, a single word rubbing him the wrong way, almost throwing the orders at his costumers not caring about angry yelling and complaints. On those days, he can’t care because **_Sans is still there, even when he isn’t._** Haunting him.

The gust of cold air sends shiver through the male and he grimaces. He had heard mocking remarks about how suicidal fire elemental in Snowdin is. Grillby had always just rolled his eyes on those and Sans –

Had snickered and for a short second there had been a ghost of real smile on his face while he had made a stupid pun or made fun of the mocker’s idiocy.

Grillby grits his teeth. Fucking memories. They are nothing more than a bother. A fucked up film of life, which leeches itself on his brains.

True, cold doesn’t necessarily feel pleasant to him, but his flames are strong and hot. After spending so many years of this icy shithole Grillby’s body has gotten used it. Besides, he needs that uncomfortable, almost painful feeling of icy air caressing his body, threatening his flames.

The night is silent and in the darkness, the Underground looks more like what it really is: A cold, dark, filthy cell full of prisoners with a twisted minds. Seemingly no-one else is roaming in these empty streets but time to time a shadowy figure flashes quickly in the corner of Grillby’s eye. They disappear fast, never showing themselves. The fiery bartender scoffs cruel satisfaction rising within him. He’s dangerous and everyone knows this. It secures his position, makes him to be able to walk safely.

Unlike Sans.

As Grillby walks silently out of the town, he doesn’t really see anything but the painful film of memories starting to roll on his mind.

When the skeleton brothers had first come to town, everyone had only known about the new, ruthless captain of the Royal Guard. People had whispered about him with fear and terror. They had rumored how he had defeated the previous captain but let her live since she had made a good attack dog.

Grillby hadn’t thought much about that. He had always hated the guards and it didn’t matter who their captain was, who pulled the strings and moved those mindless puppets. But he had been amused how those mutts had been frustrated, muttering between their growling about this Great Papyrus… Despite all the bluster, the bartender had seen it clearer than he had seen dust on snow. He had noticed how their tails escaped between their legs and how their ears had lowered on the side…

It had been a good show. And Grillby had silently thanked the new Captain for that rare amusement he had in his life. Too long had those arrogant bastards pushed all the flame man’s buttons, made him flare up more than once…

…Now he feels sick. He’s disgusted at himself for feeling something even remotely positive about Papyrus. That man has nothing inside except black, slimy intentions. The male curls his hands into fists taking quick, tight, tense steps as he roams to the Snowdin forest. Cold air dances with his flames, stinging like needles, piercing his presence. His fire flickers, but the bartender couldn’t care less. He deserves this. He was _weak_.

A bitter bark of laughter echoes through the woods and if one would listen closely, they would hear the pain and deep sorrow. All the unshed tears and frustrated anger torturing Grillby. But he doesn’t cry, of course he doesn’t. It’s too hard not to be stuck in his old habits. After all, **_no one_** wants to show any kind of weakness in this hellhole. If you are weak, you are easy prey.

So the man doesn’t cry, no. Instead he chuckles bitterly, because his life is a fucking joke. The cold air invades his mouth, burning his throat like acid. If someone told him years ago, one day he would wander in the forest like a lost fucking, puppy, rolling in self-pity, hurting himself purposely with icy air and _missing_ someone so fucking much his soul would hurt all over, he would have scoffed and dryly retorted the amount of drinks this person had.

But it’s the fucked up reality he lives in. Grillby stops laughing eventually and snorts, ugly, cold smile on his face as he stares at almost black scenery in front of him. _Of all the monsters… it just had to be him…_ The soft-souled idiot who couldn’t harm his own brother, even if Grillby had suggested – **_he had even pleaded at some point._**

Once, Sans had been so strong, full of crude humor and intelligence observing every single monster in the bar, calculating, thinking... It hadn’t mattered if Sans only had one HP, his magic had been powerful, his eye blooming royal red hue when he got angry…

Grillby must confess, he too, had at first underestimated Sans when the skeleton had walked into the establishment. The male had encountered couple skeleton monsters in his life and they all had been freakishly tall, deadly, and air surrounding full of sparking magic getting ready to burst.

Sans had been **_so different_**. Small, with thin bones, almost drowning in his puffy hoodie, leisure grin on his face, golden tooth glittering on bar’s dim light. He had looked like a joke.

_Sans stares at him for a moment with a smug smile on his face irritating Grillby further. At that moment the flame thinks the skeleton is a slow one. No one in the Underground carries that kind of carefree smile. Usually monsters marched at the counter with heavy steps, bitterness decorating their features. And this… small minded idiot has just waltzed in. And there he stands. Staring at Grillby smugly like he knows something the bartender doesn’t._

_Stars, he hates that expression._

_“Are you going to order or are you just going to stand there and waste my time?!” Grillby snaps. Maybe this guy is already drunk, he thinks, groaning to himself. True, he is a bartender and he has used to drunken monsters…_

_…It doesn’t mean it’s pleasant. If monsters are pain to deal with when they are sober, they are a throbbing headache while drunk._

_“I wasn’t expecting much from this bar but it looks like the place is on fire,” The skeleton notes grinning while still getting closer to the counter._

_Grillby adjusts his glasses just wanting to toss the skeleton out but he restrains himself. Costumers bring money and money helps to gain status – and it can be used as a way to bribe arrogant guards if necessary.“What do you want?” He spats rudely. Just because he has all these costumers, it doesn’t mean he’s obligated to be polite._

_**It would be pointless to drown others with kind words when anyone could be the one killing him tomorrow.** _

_Sans only shrugs, not really caring about spikes in Grillby’s voice. It really doesn’t seem to egg him. Not really a surprise. The flame monster could bet his entire fortune that this person has heard worse._

_“C’mon, no need to be hotheaded...” He answers smiling at his own joke. Grillby feels his flame go a bit hotter. He is already tired and this small skeleton’s jokes sucked so badly. Some simpler monster pumped up with uncontrollable LOVE would have already attacked this guy. “But… I’ll have a burger, fries and mustard with them.”_

_The bartender doesn’t even nod. He just walks in the kitchen preparing the meal. While making food he idly ponders the monster’s weird appearance and behavior… It’s so untypical for a skeleton._

_**Not my business,** he decides then. Grillby doesn’t give a flying shit about his costumers so why start now. Costumers have only been money machines. Faceless, forgettable masses. Maybe some of them are pleasant enough like Red bird which has a good view on things and Grillby can always hold up a decent conversation with him. _

_There is something about that skeleton… Something that doesn’t add up. Most monsters are rolling endlessly in their negative emotions, letting them rot their souls and poison their minds with fear, cynicism, depression and anger. Only those insanely strong monsters which have nothing to fear could afford being happy or satisfied. They can sleep their nights knowing no one would try and stab them on their back. They can relax and laugh their soul out of their chest as the rest of the world slowly kills each other for food, territories and status._

_And yet… The skeleton is perfectly laid back, no tension weighting his shoulders, and the lightness on his steps._

_Perchance…_

_He is the new captain? Sure, he doesn’t look like it, but Grillby knows that appearances are deceiving and some monsters like to disguise themselves either for their own amusement or having the element of surprise on their side._

_And… Maybe he's getting to know the town masked?_

_When Grillby returns he stops to stare the skeleton for a moment, scanning the other one with his gaze. Sans is leaning on the counter, glancing the others with disinterest in his eyes._

_His clothes aren’t the fanciest or the cleanest. His shoelaces are untied and he looks ridiculous sitting on the tall stool, his feet hanging on air._

_He doesn’t look like a captain. Far from it. But Grillby is curious – for a good reason. So he checks Sans._

_And he freezes on the spot disbelief gluing him on his place._

_One HP_

 

_One Defence._

_**One everything.** _

_He shouldn’t be even alive, that is the first thought on his head. What the **hell** monster like that did in a place like this?! _

_Later, Grillby would know. **Later** , Grillby would desperately think, if it was luck, that Sans had ended up in his bar or had it made everything worse? _

_He would ask himself, if he would have stayed away, had Papyrus been much more merciful to Sans?_

_But in that moment, it’s a fucking hilarious joke. Grillby smirks cruelly knowing – or more like thinking – that this fragile monster is going die in no time._

_And then he pinpoints it: The relaxation, that calmness, it’s all an act. He finally notices how the phalanges are pressing the wooden surface too hard, how his gaze stops at the most dangerous looking monsters…_

_The little guy had nerves, Grillby has to admit that much – but it’s also bizarre, weird situation. And kind of funny on its’ own way._

_“Knew you’d like my puns," the skeleton retorts the smug smirk still lingering on his face, making Grillby snort._

_“If I were you, I wouldn’t joke around so much”, the flame says flatly as he puts the food in front of Sans. “Monsters like you are eaten alive here…” Grillby has no-fights policy in his bar but weaker monsters still keep themselves away. Drunk, impulsive monsters are easy to annoy and the policy doesn’t stop them to pick a victim and attack them outside the bar later._

_“Eh, I don’t think so," the other monster answers starting to eat._

_To Grillby’s surprise the skeleton comes back the next day. Unharmed. He orders the exact same dish and starts to eat happily. The bartender just ignores Sans. There’s no point of converse with weaklings, monsters, which existent are less than flickering. (Not that Grillby wants to talk to anyone really. He has always minded his own business, not sharing things with anyone.)_

_Sans always comes back. This always wakes Grillby’s attention, makes him actually want to ask the skeleton, how the hell he manages, how he is even able to keep himself intact._

_But he never does so. It seems so pointless. It isn’t his business. Or that’s what he tells himself._

_And yet… Every time his eyes automatically find Sans and he always feels this wave of surprise. (Later he would feel a huge ocean of relieve drown him, when Sans walks, crawls or limbs in that door.) Sans always meets his gaze and it’s almost like he knows what the flame monster thinks. With a shit eating grin, the skeleton raises his glass and starts drinking. Every time, Grillby is mad at himself for not being able to ignore Sans all together._

_This continues for months. This weird did-you-think-I-was-dead-yet game. The bartender also notes how the dogs seem to just ignore Sans completely which is odd. They are bullies and always harass others – especially those lot weaker than them. So Sans should be an easy prey, ideal for gaining some extra EXP._

_Soon, Grillby knows why. Why Sans has lasted so long, why he has been left alone by the stronger monsters._

_Soon, Grillby would meet the man he would learn to **loath** more than anything else in the Underground. _

_Sans is sitting at the corner of the bar dosing off, glass on dangerously close of table edge. The noise of other monsters’ bickering, snarling and drunken slurs echoes through the place like any normal day. The purple flame is polishing glasses not really caring about anything. All days are like this, crawling forward slowly, dragging these desperate, dark creatures with them not caring of their misery and pain._

_Someone slams the door open and sudden silence lands in the bar. The harsh wind intrudes inside reaching Grillby, who nearly jumps. The wave of irritation hits him and the man lifts his head angrily, ready to shout the asshole to shut the goddamn door but Grillby stops._

_At the door, there’s a tall skeleton a crack running across his eye socket. A permanent frown is planted on his face and the battle body tells Grillby everything. This is the new captain. And the way he holds his head high and moves so confidently is a sign that this man takes pride on his rank._

_The skeleton scans the bar with a contemptuous look scoffing at what he sees. Grillby rolls his eyes. “Can I help you with something, or did you just got in the wrong place?”_

_The skeleton doesn’t acknowledge this at all. The ignorance makes Grillby’s temperature go higher – literally. Captain or not, he has entered in Grillby’s bar. He gets ready to repeat the question, firmer this time and just maybe give this man a lesson when the tall monster notices what he has come here for. Determined, he stomps across the space, straight to still napping Sans._

_The flame is watching with faint interest how the man shakes Sans awake almost violently. The smaller one opens his eyes and looks at his brother with disinterest. “Oh… Hi Paps,”_

_The name makes the other one tenses and the rage reflects from his presence. It makes the air thick and others keep looking at them nervously. For bartender’s small delight, the canine unit pale and even Greater dog has his tail between his legs._

_“What…” Papyrus starts with dangerously low and silent voice “…Have I told you about using that name on me?!”_

_Sans just smiles, lazy, blasphemous smile and only then Grillby notices how the smile isn’t really… Right. (He also notices the sadness in his eyes.) “You maybe the Captain of the Royal Guard, but you’re still my little bro.”_

_“Don’t act so high,” the taller one growls, tightening the grip on Sans shoulders. “Without me, you wouldn’t last a day.” He spats._

_**Ah, so that’s it,** Grillby thinks idly. Of course, it made perfect sense at the time. Though Grillby is a bit disappointed. In a small corner of his mind, he has thought that maybe Sans is different, an exception in this merciless world. That doesn’t stop the bartender eyeing the scene before him warily. He’s strict with his policies and he has zero tolerance for anyone breaking them. _

_“Heh, we don’t know that,” Sans mutters annoying his brother further. The taller one lets out a displeased tsk sound looking like he wants to strangle his brother on the spot._

_“Why aren’t you on your post?! You are a sentry with responsibilities! And you are **MY** brother! How do you expect people to take me seriously if my brother comes here to drink instead of doing his fucking job?!” _

_Sans just stares the other one for a long time with dull eye sockets. (That is the first time flame monster sees the skeleton’s hopeless face.) “Look around you,” he notes swaying his hand absently. “The dogs are here too. Why aren’t you ever nagging and yelling to them? And so are half of your guards… My job is useless compared to theirs. What’s so useful about standing in the cold weather, in the middle of the forest?”_

_The purple flame has to admit, he agrees. The sentry duty is useless. It doesn’t help anyone or improve their dark kingdom of caverns. It only makes monsters easy prey and with only one hit point…_

_Well, Grillby doesn’t really care about Sans’s wellbeing (not yet), but he doesn’t really blamed the other one… Then again, the guy isn’t really any safer in his bar. After all, many consider his puns being so annoying few monsters have even considering dusting Sans._

_“Don’t give me fucking excuses, Sans! You know exactly why the sentry duty is needed! If a human – “_

_A loud thud can be heard across the bar. Sans’s bony fist hits the table and this is the first time Grillby sees the smaller skeleton losing his temper. “What human?! There had been no human for years! You STILL believe we’re getting out of this hellhole?!” The flame monster notices how others start to listen too. Some of them follow nervously Papyrus’s expressions. Sans isn’t finished yet. “It’s fairytale, Paps, I doubt the King even wants to let us out of here. Otherwise he would have already cross the barrier and got the rest of the souls – “_

_A bone hits a bone when the captain slaps his brother and takes Sans’s jaw in his hand. Squeezing hard. It looks uncomfortable and even though the taller skeleton’s phalanges are being hidden with the red gloves Grillby sees the sharp outlines and he notices how Sans flinches. Absently he wonders if he should step in deciding against it. A slap across the face doesn’t mean a fight. It’s no more than a common act of discipline especially among relatives and family members and it very rarely leads to a fight._

_“Don’t. Call. Me. By. That. Name.” Papyrus hisses. He doesn’t let his brother answer as he grabs Sans by the arm and drags him out of the bar dark rage controlling his every movement._

_Grillby continues his day thinking of Sans’ words. The skeleton is weak and lazy, but at least he is clever. The monsters have lost all of their hopes, but some of them still announce loudly what they would do, when the next human would fall and when they got to the surface. Some of them are being a bit more careful, using the words like "if"._

_Grillby is neither. Like Sans, he doesn’t believe in fairytales._

The male snaps out of his reminisce as he sees it: Sans’ sentry post. It stands there, on the snowfall unmoving looking frail and delicate. Wood is already in a bad shape when no one is taking care of it. The snow has covered half of it and when the wind hits it, the post creeks pitifully.

The flame approaches it slowly, bang of deep sadness hitting him. He can _still_ see Sans standing behind there, glancing at different directions nervously, shivering and relieve flashing on his eye sockets when Grillby would drop by. (He had always claimed then that he had everything under control, that he hadn’t been breaking inside. He had insistent that Grillby would go back to tend his bar)

Grillby touches gently the wooden surface flinching slightly because of the coldness. Some days, Sans had been behind his post having a panic attack, not wanting anyone to see him like this – especially Grillby. It had been infuriating.

_“Why didn’t you protect him?”_

The male grimaces and pulls his hand away like it’s burning him – and in a way, it is by waking all this emotions. _You don’t know anything,_ he thinks bitterly. He tried. He _tried_ so fucking **_hard_**. But Sans had been stubborn and Papyrus –

Papyrus had won. Won over Sans. He had fucking won everything! He had brainwashed Sans with his words, abuse and by putting the blame on Sans. The poison of false words and ugly acts had slowly shrunk the skeleton, made him obedient and submissive. It had been creepy and horrifying to watch. Just… Stand by and see it all happen.

And Grillby… He doesn’t know if he made everything better or worse, he doesn’t know if he should have just try harder. **_He doesn’t know_**.

The man leans on the old sentry post and closes his eyes listening to silence. He misses the skeleton. And it’s worse now that he knows Sans is alive. He’s _alive_ but that’s all he knows. Grillby doesn’t know if the small monster is well, or if he’s suffering, whimpering alone in the darkness, with pain -

Being alive hides so many meanings. It can be the same as the soul piercing pain or being happy and well. Grillby snorts. _Happy and well… Yeah right_. At least, when the flame monster had stared in the dark abyss of the falls in the dump he had been somewhat satisfied since at least being dead meant same as no pain.

Of course, the bartender is a selfish bastard, so the grieve had hit him afterwards and immediately he had wished Sans back, heavy weight on his soul.

But now there are so many feelings and he doesn’t know if they are right or wrong. Sans lives, and now there’s worry on the mix because that stranger hasn’t seemed right… Jealousy is haunting in back of his mind, but it’s not the most controlling feeling.

He wants so badly ensure that Sans is safe, that for fucking once the skeleton would have a place of sanctuary.

**_But more than anything, he just wants Sans to come home._ **

It’s terrible thing to hope for someone he… _Cares_ about so much. (He can’t still think of that word, not out of denial nor because he thinks that feeling is pathetic. But… if he would finally name that excruciating feeling, he would **_break_** ) After all, most of the monsters would leave and never come back. What is there, in this wasteland of rotten hopes and lost dreams for Sans to come back to?

The male sighs. Stars he needs cigarettes, but they are back at his bar and he doesn’t want to go back there. Yes, the memories are pressing him here too, trying to tear him apart, but it’s not as terrible as in his establishment.

It would have been easier if Sans just hadn’t done that little stunt on that day, getting Grillby… impressed. Still, the memory makes him grin a bit.

_It’s been already annoying day full of annoying monsters acting like spoiled brats whining for booze and demanding Grillby to be everywhere at once. There’s especially that one shit head wobbling around drunk, beer spilling on the floor – **Grillby just finished mopping the damn thing** – and green, scaly tail is knocking the chairs over and pushing the other costumers. _

_Normally, the flame would just suck it up and tolerate it – he can handle a lot of things even though he doesn’t necessary like them. He has to. Everyone have to if they want to live – but the reptile monster’s big, fat mouth is running, challenging every one near him to fight and that gruff voice is making Grillby feel like he’s going to get a fucking migraine if the guy doesn’t stop._

_He’s one of the guards so that’s explains an armor he’s wearing. The man would be clumsy even without it but now it just makes his moving more wobbling and unfocused. The loud clank sounds are mixed with his lies about his great deeds and it makes Grillby just scoff. He doesn’t really get why Papyrus would allow this kind of loser to be part of the Royal Guard. **Then again, he lets Sans live, so maybe it’s just bad judgement?** _

_Grillby tries to aim his concentration on his job, still keeping an eye on the loud fucker since he seems to get more and more aggressive by the minute snarling at those who snicker at his stories, not believing a word and making fun of him._

_The bartender decides it’s time to step in as the reptile pushes Lesser dog with his tail causing the alcohol splash on that white – or more like slightly dirty and gray – fur. Sharp growl is heard and apparently the scaly moron takes it as a challenge or as an insult since he turns around, muddy yellow eyes roaming for a moment before stopping at Lesser dog. He’s swaying for a moment, not saying a word and trying to steady himself. “_

_Ya tryin’ to pick a fight with me, ya punk?” The reptile slurs and pulling his sword out of the sheath. Lesser dog does the same still letting out barks and threatening growling. The rest of the bar is watching and the air is filled with hunger for bloodshed. It’s ridiculous since they **know** the fighting is forbidden inside. (Grillby is serving idiots and some days, he regrets he even started the whole damn place.) _

_It’s time to step in and break the whole thing – again. With a frustrated huff Grillby hurls a rag on the counter – it hits the wood violently with a “slash” – He walks over to thick headed duo, steps short, sharp and impatient._

_“Both of you,” he commands with so much authority in his voice it would rival with Papyrus’ “Out. Now.”_

_Lesser dog lets out a small snarl, not removing his gaze. The reptile is the same, both glaring each other like couple hotheaded idiots they are._

_“ **You know the rules** ," Grillby speaks firmly and slowly, already getting ready to “encourage” both of them if needed. It works – partly. Slowly, Lesser dog lowers his sword and shoots the final, ugly glance on his challenger before leaving, marching out demonstratively. _

_The lizard stays now hissing at the flaming man displeased weapon still lifted. Grillby stays unfazed. He has heard it all. All the threats, all the pleading, everything. “Ya can’t kick me out. I ain’t finished my drink yet.”_

_“Then you should have thought of that before. It’s not my fault you’re so slow,” Grillby retorts shrugging. The other monster looks like someone has hit him in the head but he recovers quickly and he squints his eyes. “_

_Are ya makin’ fun of me?!” He takes a step forward and Grillby sees how big the man is. He towers the flame easily, looking down at him. But it’s almost impossible to be scary or threatening when the bitter smell of alcohol and sweat are mixing and words slur together. Grillby knows already how this is going to end: He either manages to get the idiot out, or he just melts the guy into ashes. He turns to look at Red Bird who sits on his favorite stool. They exchange knowing looks_

_…When did Grillby’s life get so boring? He knows he should be glad he’s strong enough to stand up for himself, but doing this day by day is just so **D U L L.** These filthy drunks aren’t even decent opponents. _

_He doesn’t answer – there’s no point. The idiot wouldn’t listen to him anyway, so he just gets ready, knowing there’s no other option than throw this fuckface out._

_“You heard what he said, pal,” familiar voice beside Grillby growls lowly and threatening. For a moment fiery bartender can’t comprehend the whole thing until he really sees Sans right there, not seeming to be fearful the least. (But there’s still stiffness.)_

_Reptile laughs, irritating hissing sound making Grillby cringe. The lizard is grinning looking at Sans like he is a mere joke an insect to be crushed. “Stay outta the way, little guy. Your brother ain’t here to protect ya.”_

_Sans twitches with irritation and Grillby **senses** it. Angry pulse of magic that’s just dying to get free. He certainly hasn’t expected this from someone like Sans, so he follows the whole ordeal with interest but holding his poker face in place. _

_“I don’t need his protection, **buddy** ,” words are said almost as a whisper. Sans is angry and his eye socket have darkened entirely. Surprisingly, the small skeleton looks almost scary like this. _

_The lizard just snorts. “Yeah, Right. Everyone in here knows, yer alive just ‘cause of pity. Don’t worry, I’ll end yer pitiful existence!” Reptile takes a quick running step forward and –_

_-That’s all he can do. Suddenly, the monster’s soul is blue. The male can only look down on his tiny heart in confusion, brains drowning in alcohol trying to grasp the situation before suddenly he’s flying out of the bar. Grillby hears loud cursing and he can feel the corner of his mouth trying to twitch upwards. He turns to look Sans, who’s staring at him smug smirk on his face. The skeleton winks before walking at the door._

_The bartender follows him, curious to see, what else the little guy has in store. Sans stops just outside the bar looking at the pitiful guardsman who tries to stumble up – failing pitifully._

_The skeleton snaps his fingers and suddenly there’s a giant canine looking head hoovering on the air. The loud boom echoes in the air and Grillby can see big, bright laser. When it fades, the bartender can see, that the snow has melted completely next to quivering monster who has turn pale and only stares wide eyed the blackened ground just inches away from him._

_Sans snaps his fingers and the giant laser-thing vanishes like it never existed and the drunk blinks stupidly, apparently trying to figure out whether or not he really saw that or if it was only imaginary._

_“If I was you, I would think twice coming here from now on,” the skeleton says before turning around and walking back to the bar._

_No one speaks. They’re eyeing Sans suspiciously, trying to figure out his secrets probably assuming that the captain has granted part of his magic to his weaker brother. Grillby is also curious – It’s not every day he gets to see monster with so low HP using so strong magic._

_Sans doesn’t care about the looks and walks calmly to the counter, sitting down. Red Bird glares at him tightly, like Sans is going to attack him too any minute. His feathers are puffed up and Grillby chuckles at this. His… **ally’s** (There are no friends in the Underground) gesture of threat is always so amusing and even more so when the bird himself can’t help it. _

_Grillby keeps going on his day like nothing weird has happened. He cleans the glasses, makes food and drinks for monsters, which also seem to forget the whole ordeal all together, their shouts and demands making the bartender snap back on occasion._

_It’s when he’s carrying food for the canine unit he realizes it: It’s another odd discovery, something small. On normal circumstances it wouldn’t even cross his mind and later the flame still can’t answer why the fact would stick in his head like an annoying riddle which is insignificant but one can’t be satisfied until it’s solved._

_Sans has never demanded anything. Every single of his costumers – including Red Bird – acts like the male was a feeding machine, a servant. Their tones are sharp and loud. They never look at Grillby when they toss him their money._

_This skeleton on the other hand… He greets Grillby, when he comes in – though usually the greeting is followed by a corny and stupid pun. **But he treats the bartender like a real monster**. _

_Sans puts the money on the counter, always paying – some fuckers won’t even do that._

_If he needs more, he never shouts or demands, he waits until the flame man is close enough and says he needs more with normal tone._

_Maybe it’s because it’s something so strange, so uncommon to Grillby, it catches his attention. It makes him feel… he doesn’t even know. It’s awkward if he’s completely honest. It’s not how monsters are supposed to act. Everyone should be flexing their figurative muscles at each other, threating and shouting insults with every other word._

_Sans does none of this. It’s… different._

_Little by little, the bar gets emptier and emptier. Soon, only Sans is left, snoozing on the counter. Or at least his eyes are closed. Grillby should be annoyed at this. It’s closing time soon and he has started cleaning… But at least Sans is quiet and he’s actually so small his feet aren’t getting in the way as the bartender sweeps the floor under them._

_At some point, Sans opens his eyes and Grillby can feel drowsy, relaxed gaze on him. The flame pretends he doesn’t notice and continues his task._

_“Doesn’t your brother need you back?” The flame finally asks neutrally as the silence only stretches._

_Sans’ laughter tells him everything as the bitter chuckles are the only sound on that empty room. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He hardly needs me for anything now days.”_

_“That’s weird considering your magic level. How you can even pull that off with your HP?” The bartender asks curiosity winning over._

_Sans shrugs. “Heh, I guess skeletons have naturally strong magic… And… I had a good teacher.” At the end of the sentence, Sans’s voice turns a bit melancholy. Grillby doesn’t ask any more questions. The other one’s past doesn’t belong to him and he wouldn’t want to carry the load of it either. “_

_I see… Well, that was impressive anyway.” The bartender mutters, not realizing on time the unintended compliment._

_A smug smile lightens up Sans’s feature and he stares at Grillby amusement dancing on his eyes. “Aaaawwww, You do like me, Grillbz.”_

_The purple male rolls his eyes and huffs. “Shut it, you’re just as intolerable as the rest,” he snaps._

_Sans’s chuckle is much lighter and carefree as it ever has been. “Whatever you say, Grillbz.”_

_Something changed that night. The two started to talk more and more and surprisingly… The skeleton isn’t that bad company once Grillby learns to look pass his puns and jokes. (How many fire puns is there?!) '_

_Sans usually comes in around noon, throws his gold casually on the counter and orders, conversing with Grillby – and Red Bird occasionally saying his snarky comments._

_The skeleton is smart – insanely so. When he gets started about science, he doesn’t shut up and the bartender doesn’t understand half of it._

_And then Grillby slips._

_He doesn’t think Sans as an ally._

_Somehow, the skeleton sneaks out of that territory, becoming flame monster’s friend._

_When costumers act stupid, or irritated, the two of them exchange knowing looks and later joke dryly about them afterhours. If one of them ends up in heated argument or is being threatened, the other one is there, with snarky comments and sharp tongue. The skeleton usually stays late, both of them chatting lazily as Grillby cleans. It’s… nice, comfortable._

_When the first bruise appears on Sans’ arm, Grillby barely notices it. He thinks it’s weird when there’s few more, but he doesn’t question it and Sans doesn’t speak about it._

_When Sans limps in the bar, wincing on occasion, Grillby feels bang of… Something he doesn’t recognize yet. When he asks about it, trying to sound casual, the other one only brushes it of telling about getting in a fight with some random monster._

_After that Grillby won’t see the skeleton for days. The strange, sinking feeling increases inside him and it’s making him antsy and more irritating day by day. Whenever the door opens, he lifts his head, Sans’s name ready to slip from his mouth – -Only to see some ugly fucker’s face instead. Red Bird sighs and shakes his head slowly watching the bartender. Sans does turn up eventually when it’s already almost closing time – his skull cracked open, and arm dislocated, leaking marrow._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy Second chapter, where I continue to wreck my OTP!  
> I'm not sure if this is as good as the first chapter or if this is what you guys expect... I hope I don't disappoint you ;___;  
> Also I gotta feeling I made Grillby a bit too soft but oh well...  
> (Psst. Can anyone guess, which anime inspired me to do this chapter? :'D)

**Our fate was sealed from the start  
**

**So why does it hurt me so much**

**to watch you fall apart?**

                          -Madoka OST Confessio, leelee!!'s fanmade vocal cover

 

_Grillby’s movements stops and he just stares the skeleton’s wounds. The other one only grins (though it’s more like a grimace decorated with pain) as he lifts his better hand a bit shakily as he greets the bartender._

_“Hey Grillbz, sorry to butt in at this time… I’m a little… **rattled** a moment and need to rest a while… is that… okay?” There’s alarming note of masked fear and nervousness in Sans’s voice. True, he’s always careful and alert, but he hasn’t been like that around Grillby for a while. Not after they had formed a mutual bond of understanding. _

_The flame nods, words getting stuck on the way out. He can’t stop looking at the cracked bones, bruises and marrow. The relieve radiates from Sans’s sigh as he sits down flinching a little when his bones touches the wood._

_Grillby continues cleaning trying to glue his eyes on the floor he’s sweeping, his hands squeezing the mop. He doesn’t understand this weird feeling inside him. It squirms and nags in his soul, clouding his minds and constantly distracting him._

_Then it hits the male._

_It’s worry._

_It’s laughable, really. Fights occur every day as well as injuries and deaths. This shouldn’t be this groundbreaking and upsetting. What is he even worried about? Sans is more than capable of taking care of him, he has proven that even after that incident with the reptile –_

_…But… If that is the case, why was Sans in that condition? Now, that Grillby thinks about it, he remembers those bruises being a bit bigger and darker day by day. He’s sure Sans wouldn’t let anyone treat him like this._

_**What’s going on…?** _

_He glances Sans and sees him trying to heal his dislocated arm. He seems dizzy and his focus shifts. Magic sparks for a moment before it fades into nothing. On a whim, the flame checks his companion._

_0.9 HP_

_Before Grillby even thinks, he’s beside Sans, the skeleton looks at him trying to still keep smiling. “Okay, okay, Grillbz, I’ll leave. Just… G’mme a moment…” He mutters._

_Leave? With that much damage? Yeah right. The bartender just shakes his head and sighs, sitting next to Sans. “Stay still,” he commands as he summons his magic. (It’s only split second, but fear reflects on the skeleton’s face.)_

_Systematically, Grillby starts with his task, damage by damage working in silence, feeling how Sans tenses under his magic. The flame notices how… petite looking the bones and that’s actually kind of cute._

_“What happened?” the fire asks flatly expecting – hoping – that Sans would laugh carefree and real, telling some stupid and funny story about a fight with some stupid fucker who got dusted for taking Sans for an easy EXP and they would both laugh mockingly about it._

_Sans… Doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even look Grillby in the eye. “Nothing really, got into a fight,” he murmurs shrugging and leaning to fire man’s touch as he puts his hand gently on the skull. The crack looks… bad. Grillby is not sure whether his healing skills are enough. But he tries, pouring his magic to Sans. The skeleton sighs, closing his eyes._

_The flame man can feel the warmth radiating from Sans and suddenly, he notices how close they both are. Surprisingly, Grillby notices he doesn’t mind. Sans isn’t – never was – one of those monsters who get too closed, drunken pick-up lines slurring from their lips._

_“You’re lying”, the bartender mutters feeling slight wave of irritation hitting him. It feels like a slap on his face and again, it’s nothing new. He has dealt with this feeling before, quite often, actually. But again, Sans makes everything different and **new**. _

_He feels annoyed because his friend doesn’t tell him. And it’s confusing. Why should it bother him? It’s not his business. If Sans feels uncomfortable telling him, he shouldn’t be pressing the issue. ( **He shouldn’t even care** ) Yet, the words keep pouring out unstoppable his magic sparking impatiently when the crack just refuses to heal. “I know you can defend yourself. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt you this badly…” _

_“I was ambushed. You know I can’t be alert 24/7,” The excuse is lame and Grillby huffs, twitching with frustration._

_“By **who**?” Suddenly, the information feels so vital. He wants – no – **needs** to know the attacker. Grillby should have waited for this. By normal standards, Sans is weak. It was only matter of time when he would end up like this. _

_This doesn’t make any sense, his feelings, that is. It rebels against that simple logic screaming that Sans shouldn’t be like this, ever. His mind is picturing all the most disgusting ways of killing the monster doing this._

_And why won’t that damn crack just heal?! Grillby pours more magic hissing aggressively. This is probably the reason, Sans is so dizzy and it worries him even further._

_“Didn’t see the face,” the skeleton stubbornly continues lying._

_“For fucks sake Sans!” Grillby finally snaps losing his patient. Sans is so… special and the flame doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like **seeing** Sans like this. And that fucking crack on the skull is still there and it just **won’t heal**. _

_“Heh, I wouldn’t say they did it for that’s sake, but oh well," Sans retorts but it’s lacking that usual humor and edge. His voice is flowing silently, almost melancholically, words murmured sleepily and softly. He sounds exhausted and Grillby is almost tempted to offer Sans to sleep at his small apartment upstairs but he holds his tongue. Somehow he gets the feeling the small skeleton would just decline and it only fuels his frustration._

_“I can’t heal this goddamn crack”, the bartender growls instead wanting to hit something so badly. He considers himself to be a fairly good healer but there’s something blocking his magic… Or at least it appears to be so. “Go see a professional healer.”_

_Sans just yawns and stands up a bit shakily. Grillby’s hands twitch as a thought of supporting his friend just in case crosses his mind. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Grillbz”, he starts to drag himself to the door. “See you tomorrow.”_

_“Sans, you fucking idiot, what if they are still out there?!” The bartender snaps, his flame letting a sharp crackle sound. Sans is still sluggish, and dizzy. Grillby knows some monsters hate the skeleton for that simple reason they think the small monster as extremely annoying. Going out in that condition…_

_“I’m a big boy”, Sans answers too tired to even trying to pretend being his old self. And stars… All those negative feelings in his voice make Grillby walk rapidly to Sans. There is more to this. Now the flame is sure. His voice sounds so fragile and small all the façade finally crumbling._

_“Sans – “_

_“C’mon hotshot, I got my tricks and blasters”, Sans said. “And if the dogs try anything, I can always throw them a bone… Cause… you know, I’m a skeleton and they’re dogs so…” Sans’s words are like runaway birds, flying and bumping on each other in panic._

_Grillby steps closer. Absently he notices how buffy Sans’s jacket is and that the skeleton is actually smaller than he originally thought. It would be easy to just lift the skeleton and hold him. There’s a sudden urge to do so, especially now that his friend is wounded. The thought is distracting and the flame pushes it aside. He would explore these new, confusing ideas later. “Sans, you can’t go there like this. It’s dangerous!”_

_A bitter chuckle which changes into snort. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? I have to go **home**.” Now the desperation is clear and Sans doesn’t even bother to hide it. He opens the door. _

_Grillby acts before he thinks, grabbing Sans bony wrist on his hand. (It’s thin and feverish.)_

_The Skeleton’s reaction is immediate. He jolts and turns to look at his friend with fear. The gaze makes the flame still completely. Sans hasn’t ever looked so openly scared. Like the bartender touch was poisonous and evil. The fire withdraws slowly. Both of them are unmoving, their feelings stumbling in awkward silence._

_The fire wants desperately say something, make Sans stay. His soul is screaming making up excuses so skeleton wouldn’t go but his mind is completely empty._

_It’s the smaller monster who moves first. He mutters halfhearted “see you tomorrow,” before slamming the door shut behind him. Grillby stands there still, while his newly discovered mess of feelings is consuming him._

_**What is wrong with him?** He shouldn’t be so shaken up. He shouldn’t be so worried. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sans like  **this** – _

_Grillby curses, kicking a chair near him before rushing upstairs to his apartment._

_He needs to smoke. And maybe drink some of his stress away._

Everything would have been easier, if Grillby had never met Sans. But he had never felt such a connection nor had he enjoyed another monster’s company so much. The fire isn’t dreamer and he likes to keep his feet on the ground but sometimes, devious pictures of what their life could have been without Papyrus pops up cruel and unstoppable, teasing him.

Maybe… Sans would have been more open with him since the beginning. Maybe they could have form a relationship of some kind. Maybe – despite Underground being the unforgiving hellhole – they could have been happy.

Grillby stands up angrily, curling his hands into fists. He would have killed Papyrus eons ago, if Sans wouldn’t have been brainwashed and if Papyrus wouldn’t have put that fucking thing around his ankle. (He can feel the weight of that metal ring, irritating and cold.)

He starts to walk faster and deeper into the forest. The male knows he’s close the door Sans once mentioned. Grillby must admit, he had felt a stung of jealousy after hearing about a lonely – and a bit unstable – woman behind the door. It hadn’t held a candle to Papyrus’s wrath though, when the taller skeleton had heard about the whole thing.

The shadows are getting longer and purple flames glow softly in the night. The nightly forest is actually pretty nice place now that there are no demanding, fighting monsters.

If… Sans would have been there, he would have liked this –

 _Stop it_ , the bartender says to himself. Such sentimental thoughts won’t help him – and certainly not Sans. He should break free from his miserable memories and try to think clearly. _For Sans, to bring him home._

The one who has him now is a skeleton monster judging by his build. There are not that many left but what the flame monster knows, most of them prefer to live at the Capital and they have strong magic. Because of this, they are granted with high position and important jobs.

Most likely, Sans is there. It’s possible that he’s hiding somewhere or hidden. But… Why would Sans hide from _**H I M**_? After what Grillby had told the skeleton just before his disappearance. Why would he make flame think that he was death?

…Why would he make Grillby _**S U F F E R**_ like _this_?

The life in this place is a constant uncertainty: Monsters can never be sure if they’ll wake up to live another day. Everyone has to deal with it and learn to live with that fact.

But Grillby is left with different kind of uncertainty. It squirms and burns inside him coldly. No one can help him. No one would care enough to help the flame and the ones who could, have hurt Sans or would demand a high price.

The bartender wakes from his cynical thoughts when he sees something glowing blue in the distance. He becomes alert in an instant, sharpening his senses. He stops and listens closely but can’t hear anything. Cautiously, he starts to approach the glow.

First, he recognizes the glowing objects as blue bones and he grimaces visibly. So that shit head is near somewhere?! Very well, if he’s near and they would cross paths, Grillby wouldn’t hold back. He doesn’t care about the ring anymore. He would do attack, even if it killed him.

He speeds up, curious to see the poor bastard Papyrus has lashed out to. He sees a red scarf and a battle body which protects the bony body –

Grillby stops, his eyes wide. Sans would probably laugh at how dumbstruck he looks. The flame can’t believe the grotesque sight right in front him and his brains are trying to process the whole ordeal only to come with the words: How? Who? Why?

There, in front of his very eyes, lays Papyrus, still alive – just and just. The bones are sticking up various places of his body and he’s uncharacteristically silent.

Then, it finally hits Grillby:

Sans’s tormentor is right there, defenseless, his clowns nowhere near to be seen or heard.

_The next time Sans comes, he doesn’t order anything. He just greets Grillby and sits down. The crack is still there and when the flame man notices it, he accidently slams the plate in front of the drunken rabbit, who doesn’t really seem to even notice._

_All Sans does, is just watch other costumers, making puns that are even lamer than before and laugh. Forcefulness rings from that and all the time Grillby is painfully aware of the skeleton. That pretense… it annoys him. (Is Sans more careful with his left leg that usual?)_

_But they don’t really talk. The awkwardness between them is still thick from the other night. The flame wants nothing more than to talk to Sans… The skeleton is still not at ease, he still seems shaken up. Grillby believes less and less the story about random attack. This is something bigger and darker._

_During the day, the bartender notices how Sans is massaging his skull time to time and there’s a faint expression of pain. The skeleton twitches every time someone raises their voice. That crack obviously still hurts._

_Quickly, Grillby walks to the kitchen. He has a box in which he keeps items for his own personal needs. He opens it and takes one cinnamon bunny. When he returns he tosses it to Sans who stares at him blankly for a moment._

_“You’re in pain,” the bartender explains, sighing. “This might help.” Sans face is wary, his posture not relaxing._

_“I don’t have any gold with me,” The skeleton says. Grillby snorts._

_“You don’t need to pay. It’s a – “ the bartender hesitates. He can’t say gift. It would make them closer, make them… **something**. “ – payback.” _

_Sans looks still doubtful but he smiles – **smiles** – and thanks. the flame is taken aback. The smaller one doesn’t even seem to notice his friend’s confusion as he digs in like a starving animal, the treat vanishing almost instantly._

_Aftermath of Sans’s smile is still there, making soft warmth spread inside Grillby. That smile had been small and so real. It had made Sans look younger and… so… beautiful? Cute? It’s odd, too weird –_

_“Uh… Grillbz? You OK?” Sans asks._

_…Shit… Goddamn this sack of bones… “I’m fine,” Grillby snaps starting to mix drink for a costumer. (He needs to do something with his hands right now.) He notices the Red bird’s gaze, suspicious and cold. The flame stares back challenging. If Red wants to say something, he should just spit it._

_There are long periods of times when Sans doesn’t come. Those are getting more and more frequent. Those days are slow, filled with thick anxiety and all the worst possible scenarios. When the flame has thought the skeleton has been dusted he returns – with new bruises and cracks. They talk and joke like always but the fire can’t bring himself to be as carefree as before. He can’t look past Sans’s wounds, they always seem to jump right in front of his eyes._

_Sans still makes puns but less and less. He still doesn’t eat._

_But… He still stays long after others are gone and one night, Grillby just can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about pride anymore or how monsters are supposed to act. It’s obvious someone is actively abusing the skeleton, attacking him constantly._

_Grillby cares. He’s mature enough to admit that to himself. Someone, or somebodies are hurting Sans and he’s not going to watch from the sidelines anymore._

_So, one night, he doesn’t pick up the mop. He sits right next to Sans, feeling his confused gaze on himself. “…Grillbz…?”_

_“Who is doing this?” The bartender asks, voice shaking with rage. The skeleton is silent, refusing to speak. (Grillby wants to shake him, yell at him, **DEMAND** him to speak.) _

_“Sans”, He continues sharply. When the smaller monster doesn’t answer, Grillby turns to look at him only noticing his friend is actively avoiding his gaze. It’s almost like he’s shrinking under his friend’s inspection. “Don’t give that bullshit about random fights or ambushes. I know something’s up. You’re bruised all the time and yet you don’t heal yourself, you don’t eat anything – “_

_“I don’t have any gold of my own right now, sorry,” Sans mutters. Well, that explains at least something despite waking only more questions. “And… besides… I eat at home.”_

_Grillby cringes and scoffs. “Well, apparently it’s not enough since your magic seems only weaken day by day”, his tone is harsh, whipping the air. Sans jolts as if the bartender has accused him of a crime._

_“Why the fuck do you care anyway?!” Sans shouts. “It’s every monster for themselves and you know it! No one asked you to look after me. I’m not a fucking baby.”_

_Grillby finally loses his nerves grabbing Sans by the collar. “NO ONE asked me, but I still CARE! You think I can do anything about it?! I fucking can’t, so get used it! Do you have ANY GODDAMN idea what is like to see you like this Every. Fucking. Day. And when you don’t walk through that door – “ the flame nods towards the entrance. “I can’t help than think you’ve been dusted. Fucking hell Sans, I know your magic is strong but you have only **ONE FUCKING HP**.” _

_The bartender has never been this honest to anyone. Letting his feelings to be so visible, so bare, he has always been against his policy but right now, in that dim lit room, he doesn’t care. He **wants** Sans to see. _

_After that outburst, Grillby is out of breath. They are staring at each other. Grillby with desperation and hope that his friend would **finally** understand. Sans’s face is surprised and confused at first, shock clear on his face. _

_Then, to the flame’s utter surprise, pure terror swallows Sans. He starts trembling and tears start flow. Grillby’s eyes widen and quickly he releases his grip on the skeleton’s clothes. **Shit**. The purple fire isn’t used to deal with crying. The misery is very often expressed through anger. Grillby feels awkward but he can’t turn his head away and he most certainly isn’t going to turn his back on Sans. _

_“…You do this every time…” Sans starts quietly, still quivering. “At every reset you – “ Sob cuts him off. The bartender doesn’t know what he should do. The sudden urge to hold Sans is strong, but it might be mistake considering how violently someone’s been acting towards the small monster. He wants to do at least something._

_Hesitatingly, Grillby brings his hand to Sans’s arm, starting to run it softly along the skeleton’s bones. He looks at the wall not being able to bring himself to form an eye contact. This is all so foreign to him. He just wants Sans to stop crying, that small smile lingering on Grillby’s mind. He wants to bring that to the skeleton’s face._

_“Why do you have to start this every single reset?! You… He’s going to **kill** you… And I’m going to be alone again…” Sans’ voice is only a wave of shivering words. _

_Resets? Grillby has no idea what those are but right now, it doesn’t matter. “Who’s he?” He asks instead. This time much softer sending soothing warmth through his flames towards Sans._

_Sans collect himself and wipes his tears before forming a grin to his face. “Heh… sorry Grillby. That was… **tearble** … Heh…” He stands up “I need to go.” _

_“Wait Sans – “_

_“Maybe I’ll tell you about it a next time”, Sans explains. Before Grillby can ask him to stay, the other monster is already at the door, exiting quickly._

_…Of course he doesn’t tell. Instead, he sits in the corner, not talking to anyone keeping hood on his head. Grillby tries to talk but answers are short and gruff. The flame has to serve other costumers so he doesn’t have much time to spend on the skeleton._

_And again, Sans doesn’t eat. Not really food at least. Ketchup and mustard are free in **Grillby’s** and Sans is taking short sips of mustard. It looks awkward and honestly gross._

_He doesn’t stay that time._

Grillby is honestly lost at first. He never expected this. To find the captain of the Royal Guard so… _ruined_. Even if Papyrus would be miraculously saved, he wouldn’t be the same ever again.

Disappointment and anger flow inside the flame man. He should have been the one doing this. He should have been able to be protecting Sans. Truly, he’s pathetic –

_“Why didn’t you protect him?”_

Grillby wants to punch something. And there would be a perfect punching back for him right now. All weak and pathetic. It’s actually amazing how someone has managed to defeat the royal guardsman like this.

And the bartender has an idea who that one is. He doesn’t know what he should think. Obviously, the monster is powerful if he can do this.

 _"He hurt someone I care about. Now, I want to hurt him back."_ So it hasn’t been just talk.

What if he hurts Sans like this…? Would he? _**Will he?**_ For a moment, Grillby doesn’t see Papyrus laying unmoving and limp. He sees Sans. His small figure stabbed by his eye sockets and mouth, trembling in pain and tears redder than blood streaming down –

He forces the thought away. He needs to focus on this first. Grillby checks Papyrus to see how bad the damage actually is.

One HP

Grillby grins, bitter and mockingly. Oh, how **_fitting_**. The hoodie asshole obviously knew what he was doing. There’s no way this is just coincident. It’s really shame that the flame had been too weak to do this on his own… But crushing someone when they were on their last HP doesn't require magic.

Finally, the flame can have his revenge for all the things this _**piece of shit**_ put Sans through. But more importantly –

- _If Sans ever comes back, he can be safe. Papyrus won’t be here to torture him_.

Maybe… Sans will hate and resent him for this. The idea is unfortunate, but Grillby doesn’t care. As long, as Papyrus won’t be able to do anything to the only monster, Grillby cares about –

The flame man kneels on the snow and he pulls off one of the bones. The foreign magic buzzes angrily, draining his HP. Grillby pushes the pain back of his mind as he lifts the weapon, his soul fueling with _**J U S T I C E**_ he has wanted to achieve for Sans for so long.

One hit. When the bone strikes Papyrus one more time, his bones starts to change immediately. Soon, there’s only an empty battle body and one red, a bit torn scarf. Grillby drops the weapon he’s holding and stays there.

He doesn’t feel any better. Not really. Well, that unforgiving rage is gone, leaving him feeling only sorrow, loneliness and hollowness of his own soul. At least, anger for Papyrus is what he used as a fuel. It’s what Grillby used so he could function.

Somehow, focusing on hating Papyrus prevented him to truly see how much he misses and worries. How much sorrow there is inside his soul.

“What did you achieve by it, you sick fuck?” Grillby mutters, glaring at the dust. Of course, it can’t give him answers.

_The snow is scrunching under Grillby’s feet as he stomps forward quickly, shivering. The Snowdin’s weather is more cold than usual, but deep in the woods lives a monster who sells spices, he can’t find on the Snowdin’s store, or Capital. Yes, the old hag is real pain in the ass, but those spices are part reasons, why he can make the food so decicious._

_Suddenly, he hears a voice. It’s loud and obnoxious. Papyrus. Oh, the day just gets better. Grillby sighs but continues, not seeing any reason to slow down just because of some tall, arrogant sack of bones._

_“ – Don’t you dare to fall asleep on your post again, Sans!” the bartender stops._

_“…I won’t, boss…” Since when has Sans sounded so submissive?! He starts walk again, slower this time, until he has a view of the two skeletons. Sans is behind his post, avoiding his brother’s piercing glare._

_“Good…” Papyrus mutters, though the tone is suspicious. “If you actually manage to do your job, I might give you more food this time.”_

_Grillby almost drops the small spice sac his carrying. **What…?**_

_“…Yes boss…” Sans mutters, tensing a bit. Papyrus sighs as if his brother was acting childishly and unreasonable._

_“You think I enjoy this?! Punishing you like this?!If only you behaved, you wouldn’t be in this condition. You brought this upon yourself, Sans”, The guard hisses grabbing Sans’ jaw with his long, sharp phalanges. The tall man’s face is a terrible parody of gentle and pity. “Don’t worry, brother, I can be merciful too… You just need to get your act together. Once you start to listen to me, you can have gold of your own again… All you have to do is obey me,” He purrs, before he starts to walk off, not giving Sans a single glance._

_The smaller skeleton sighs with relieve and his posture relaxes. Grillby, on the other hand, is nowhere near relaxed or having a piece of mind. Now he knows why Sans doesn’t eat. Where all of his damages come from. The man has incredible hard time to control his flames as they scream to be released to burn Papyrus to ashes._

_Instead, Grillby marches to Sans’s post, noticing how little energy the skeleton has left. Sans sees him and startles but grins nonetheless. “Oh, hi Grillbz, what’s up – “_

_The male doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs Sans’s wrist. (He tries to be careful not to squeeze too hard.) The skeleton’s face is full of confusion. “Wha – “_

_“Come,” the bartender only commands, his voice shaking with restrained wrath. He starts to drag Sans across the small town ignoring his friends questions, cursing and annoyed sounds._

_The bar is closed today. Grillby grants himself a day off time to time just to maintain his sanity and to cool off. It’s good the entire bar is empty today. He leads Sans to the counter. “Sit,” he growls before disappearing to the kitchen. He starts to cook aggressively, taking everything out on the food. He makes sure, everything is exactly how Sans likes it: fries are crunchy and untypically spicy. The steak in the hamburger is greasy and salty and there’s of course lots of mustard._

_When the whole thing is ready, Grillby goes back, pushing the whole thing in front of still very puzzled Sans. “There. Eat.”_

_The skeleton looks at him eyes wide, not even bothering to pretend to be strong. “Grillbz… I-I already told you. I can’t pay – “_

_“I’ll put it on your tab,” the flame retorts knowing very well he isn’t going to demand that tab to be paid any time soon, if ever._

_“But you don’t do tabs – “_

_“Just eat Sans. You need energy,” Grillby speaks shortly and tightly, the storm of emotion devoting him. The flame is going to **kill** Papyrus, he’s sure of it. _

_Sans doesn’t do anything for a long moment. Until finally he takes a bite of his hamburger and starts to eat like an animal. His bites are rushed and messy like he’s afraid the food is going to be taken away._

_“He’s doing this to you isn’t he…” Grillby whispers. “Abusing you, keeping money from you, preventing you from eating…”_

_A clank sound can be heard as Sans drops his fork. He seems upset and shocked about the fact that Grillby knows. There’s also shame in the mix and it only makes things worse. Sans shouldn’t feel shame, he has done nothing wrong. “Grillby – “_

_“Why won’t you just dust him?!” The flame finally shouts his purple flames flaring, licking the ceiling. “Sans, I know you! You used take bullshit from no one! I know you could just blast that – “_

_“STOP!” Sans shout, his eye burning red. “You don’t understand! He’s my brother – “_

_“ **SO WHAT**?! He doesn’t deserve to be your family! Just get rid of him! Or let me do it!” _

_“Don’t you dare to touch him,” Sans growls slowly and silently, with a threat in his voice. This stops flame man. His fire cools down a bit just from mere disbelief as his eyes are locked on Sans. He just can’t comprehend why –_

_And then it hits him, with full weight. The reason why Sans won’t get rid of his problem even though he could. “I don’t fucking believe this…” He whispers. “You **care** about him.” _

_Sans lowers his gaze, not being able to look Grillby in the eye. “You don’t get it… This is all my fault… I – I did this to him.”_

_“He’s **killing** you, Sans,” the bartender speaks, trying to get Sans just **snap out of it**. This is all so unfair. No one told Grillby – neither of them – that caring hurts so much, causes a devilish addiction that just keeps sucking them in. No one warned the flame that protecting Sans would be this soul breaking. _

_Sans doesn’t answer. He’s gritting his teeth stubbornly, refusing to look at his friend. Slowly, Grillby lifts his hand and puts it on the skeleton’s shoulder plate. “Sans…” For the first time in his life he’s **pleading**. “Gotta go. Boss gets angry, if he finds out I’m not at my post”, the skeleton mumbles – and literally vanishes. (That’s the first time Grillby sees Sans teleport.) _

Finally, Grillby manages to make himself move. There’s nothing for him anymore. The empty remains can’t help him or give him answers. There’s an idea in his mind which he’s determined to fulfill. He walks back to Snowdin, first stopping by at his apartment only to grab a big, black bag. Then he rushes to the house he has used to either glare or eye worriedly.

His steps slow as he gets nearer and nearer but there’s no sign of the old magic keeping any intruders out anymore. The spell must have been stopped working right after Papyrus’s death. This brings a small, smug smile on Grillby’s face. He remembers how he desperately tried to just break through first right after getting the ring on his ankle and the second time after learning about Sans’ disappearance. He had tried over and over until Red Bird had dragged him off with the help from other citizens.

Now, nothing stops the flame as he opens the door to the dark house, which once served its purpose as a grim parody of Sans’ home. Even in darkness, Grillby can see almost disciplined neatness. Everything is spotless and in order. It looks almost obsessed.

The impression is ruined by worn out furniture which probably are gathered from the dump – or at least the couch looks like that. It’s full of holes and patches. One spring sticks through looking pitiful.

Grillby skips other rooms and heads to upstairs where he suspects his destination is. At least Sans once said his room is located there… The flame man moves hurriedly, not wanting to spend any extra time in this place where Sans had experienced so many bad things.

_The flame knew things are bad and they would only continue worsen but… This… This is just too much. This is hurting him almost as much as it’s hurting Sans. He wants so badly to look away and yet, he can’t._

_They are in the kitchen, hidden from the prying eyes. Sans’s breath is coming out sharp, panicked pants and the fact that his friend is there, seeing everything, only seems to make everything worse._

_A red glow can be seen through Sans’s shorts and it’s not hard to guess, what’s down there and it’s making Grillby even **angrier**. But he has to control himself for the skeleton’s sake. _

_“D-d-don’t look at me… please…” Sans pleads, sobs muffling his voice. The skeleton is not calming down the slightest._

_The flame monster is torturing his brain, trying to figure out something. He wants to hold Sans so badly, but it’s not an option. It could only send Sans panicking further._

_A memory pops up on his mind; feeling of two, slender arm around him and his mother’s voice, singing shakily as the guards are putting the whole place upside down. A desperate woman’s way to sooth her child. The words are fire elementals’ ancient language, unknown by many. Even Grillby doesn’t know how to speak it._

_But… He can remember those lyrics always, has them memorized better than the recipes of foods he serves. He kneels down, on Sans’s level and starts singing with silent, low voice. Eventually, he loses himself more and more to the song. He closes his eyes and starts to sway with the rhythm of a simple melody._

_The male doesn’t know how long he has sung, but when he opens his eyes, Sans has stopped breathing so quickly, his gaze is more there. He stares at Grillby with tears in his eyes, expression broken and lost._

_“G-Grillbz… I’m so – “_

_Grillby can’t help it anymore. He puts his arms around Sans’s small figure, carefully, not wanting to cause any discomfort. “Don’t be,” he only says._

_At first Sans is stiff and the bartender gets ready to withdraw. Then, the skeleton just melts in his arms and grabs his shirt desperately, sobs echoing in the room. “I – I can’t control my magic anymore! **He** has done it s-so m-many t-times and sometimes i-it just forms in there even though I-I don’t want to…” _

_A cold shiver runs alongside Grillby’s back. He feels sick. He doesn’t trust his voice, so he just squeezes Sans harder and rubs his back._

_“A – And I t-tried to k-keep you out of t-this… I really did… B-But it didn’t work! I-I’m so selfish, I keep coming back,” A mix of chuckle and sob makes it out from the skeleton’s mouth. “I’m such a failure…”_

_“You don’t have to go back there”, the flame says trying to keep his voice calm, but the words are little too strained and his act fails. Sans doesn’t answer. They both know he would go back no matter what Grillby would have to offer._

_Grillby stares at the wall, vowing in his mind to kill Papyrus no matter what it would take._

Sans’s room is so different from the rest of the house. It’s obvious the skeleton hasn’t cleaned in ages. Normal dust is flying around. Clothes and books are all over the floor and instead of a bed or even a mattress, a hammock full of holes is put to hang from two poles. It doesn’t look very comfortable.

Grillby gets to work. He starts to collect all the necessary items Sans might need if he comes back – or the ones that seems to hold some value to the skeleton. The flame would keep them safe and sound until he would return. It’s a well-known fact that empty houses tend to get robbed fast, every useful or valuable object finding their way to other monsters’ pocket.

One thing especially catches his eye. It’s a photograph, resting among books in a bookshelf. The flame man takes it on his hand to inspect it further. There’s a long crack on the protective glass and the frame is dusty and worn out.

Two monsters are staring at Grillby. First one is tall, adult monster with untypically gentle and a bit sad smile on his face. He has a crack across on his eye and black, long coat. His hands are resting on small skeleton monster’s shoulder which is looking at this tall man with wide grin and adoration on his face.

The Flame man puts the photograph on the bag with gentle and care. It goes without saying that this is probably Sans’ most precious possession. Idly he wanders if that man would still be around, would he have allowed all of this happening to Sans? Most likely not. The answer is more than obvious.

_The cell is uncomfortably wet and the chains are squeezing his wrists and ankles. They are made with blue magic, but that hadn’t stop him to try and break free only to get his HP drained to the point he had started to feel dizzy._

_He’s exhausted and only thing he can do is to just lie there, on the cold floor looking at the dark ceiling._

_If only he hadn’t been stopped, he could have killed Papyrus. It had been so close until Sans had rushed in, panic and fear dancing in his eyes as he had acted impulsively, pining Grillby’s soul to the ground just as the flame had been about to do his finishing blow._

_It had felt as if time had stopped between the three of them. Sans had started to shiver, his whole posture screaming apologies._

_Papyrus had gotten up a bit clumsily, but pleased and victorious smile on his face. He had eyed Sans extremely satisfied walking to his brother. “Why Sans…” He had whispered slimily, the perverse tone making Grillby squirm harder, trying to break free. “I’m grateful, dear brother. Finally you show some loyalty…”_

_Sans hadn’t answered. He had only stared the bartender not seeming to even realize Papyrus was there. That had changed however, when the taller skeleton had kissed Sans, messily and sloppily. Sans had trembled hard with disgust as Papyrus had started to grope him._

_Grillby had seen red. He’s flames had rose high, burning hotter than ever, melting snow around him._

_The cell door opens interrupting flame man’s unpleasant memories. He already knows who it is, even before Papyrus’ bony hand squeezes his throat. The skeleton lifts Grillby, forcing the fire looking him in the eye._

_The skeleton has something on the other hand. A metal ring. “Do you see this? This has been developed by Doctor Alphys. While this is attached to you, you can’t use your magic on me.”_

_Grillby laughs mockingly. “Scared to face me on a fair battle?!”_

_Papyrus’ eyes darken and there’s bony fist on his face. The flame is again on the hard floor as the skeleton’s boot is pressing painfully his chest. “If I were you, I wouldn’t act so high and mighty.” He spits._

_“Why not just kill me?” The purple man asks curiously. The other one is possessive bastard and if he truly wants to keep Sans, why not just ensure that permanently?_

_“Normally I would, but me and Sans have formed an agreement.” It’s as if someone has poured pure ice in Grillby’s soul. “Sans promised he wouldn’t see you, speak to you, or go to your bar… and he would let me have him completely. As long, as I won’t kill you. But… I know you’re extremely stupid so I make this clear to you – “_

_A foot is lifted from his chest, only to come back with harsher force. “ – If you ever try to approach Sans his punishment will be harsher and harsher every single time. And trust me, I will find out. Also, killing you would be risky, since your little establishment keeps people here satisfied and meek… It would be extremely troublesome to deal with whiny pigs after you’d be gone.” Then, the cursed metal ring is put into place._

After that, Sans had actively avoided Grillby, walking behind his brother like a shadow. It had been painful to watch, especially, when Papyrus would occasionally kiss and caress his brother in public. Sans had been red with shame, concentrating on the ground. On occasion, his gaze would met Grillby’s and when the skeleton had noticed the flame’s tense posture, ready to attack, he had shook his head, pleading with his eyes…

Not being able to use his magic towards Papyrus had been annoying to say the least and it had made Grillby fear for Sans every single day. Still… He had had one more option.

Muffet. The spider had her little spies everywhere and she pretty much knew everything about everyone. She would even do favors to monsters with enough money.

It had cost the bartender almost half of his gold, but the spider lady had promised to kill Papyrus for him –

-Only getting dusted in the process, making Grillby feeling helpless again. (And a bit guilty. Muffet and him had understood each other.)

Everything is ready. Grillby can leave now. At the door he hesitates for a moment, an tempting idea crosses his mind. He wants to burn this place to the ground so badly. Burn away all of the rooms where Sans had been suffered and cried in silence. His magic is already gathering. Grillby forces it down. This is not his decision to make. True, it’s more than common that other monsters will wreck this house eventually anyway, but if Sans wants to repair the house and live in here, then –

 _There’s no guarantee, he’ll come back,_ cynical voice in his head says flatly. Grillby knows this, of course he knows. But if there is even a slightest chance or opportunity for it, he will grab it.

Especially after the pain from seeing Sans the last time.

_Water… He’s surrounded by that blasted substance. It flows around him, unnerving, making him super careful and watchful. There’s the Riverperson, yes, but they are odd, humming ominous tune and whispering threatening riddles and prophecies which comes true with certainty. Besides, it’s been rumored that their boat is living and if it doesn’t like the person it’s carrying, it throws them to the water._

_Grillby is not going take that chance. This is a slower route to Hotland, but at least there’s some land here, and he doesn’t have to constantly worry about getting thrown in the water._

_Fuck Mettaton. The flame has told that stupid excuse of a star that he isn’t an errand boy and that the flamboyant robot can very well have his party without his burgers._

_Obviously, the star hasn’t listened a word and instead he gave Grillby a very detailed explanation what would happen, if he wouldn’t specifically arrive there and cooked for his stupid “I’m-the-best-killer-robot-party.”_

_Oh well, he guess this offers him something to do. (Something other than throwing things when frustration gets too much.)_

_…Now if only he wouldn’t be lost… He’s somewhere near the dump, he can see it from the trashes, floating around in the water. It gets harder to avoid the liquid. The bartender mutters a strong curse word while using his magic to stay dry – another useful fire elemental trick. Too bad it doesn’t last very long but it’s at least something._

_He roams forward, until he comes across a waterfall, which seems to lead to endless abyss of darkness. The place has a grim reputation since monsters come here only to do a suicide when things just get too much._

_Grillby stops suddenly, his soul is almost freezing as he sees all too familiar figure of a small skeleton, looking down and standing all too near of the edge. Papyrus’ threat is long forgotten as the flame speeds up._

_“Sans!” He shouts trying to think of something – **anything** – to get the smaller one further from the deadly darkness. _

_“Go away, Grillby,” Sans says, his voice flat and apathetic, not turning around. “You know we can’t talk.”_

_“Sans just… Come here,” the bartender asks, eyeing the edge nervously. The skeleton is unmoving and silent for a long time. Carefully, Grillby starts to sneak closer._

_“Why? What’s the use?” Sans seems to be aiming his words at himself rather than to the flame._

_“We’ll figure out something!” He knows the promise is desperate and Sans’ life is so fucked up, it’s probably hard for him to believe any promises the taller male makes. Still, Grillby means every word and he hopes that his reassurance would somehow break that thick, black, icy wall the skeleton has around him._

_“…107 times…” Sans whispers. “You have said that 107 times to be exact.”_

_That doesn’t make any sense to Grillby. Something cold squeezes around the bartender’s soul as he tries to fit these insane puzzle pieces together. Is Sans delusional? Has Papyrus broken his brother so badly?! “Sans, this is the first time I have said this…”_

_Finally, the skeleton turns around with sad, bitter smile cutting his face and red tears streaming on his cheekbones. “See? We’re not even living in the same time.” Everything in Sans is trembling and he hugs himself. “We have tried everything – **everything** ”, His gaze is distant, like he’s trying to remember a bad dream. “In one reset we tried to run. **He** found us. Then he dusted you and dragged me home – “ _

_There’s something more wrong in Sans than Grillby has thought. His mind is about to break from all the abuse and stress. The flame wants to reach out so badly… But it’s like something has gotten stuck in his throat._

_“The timeline before that I managed to dust him… At first I was relieved… But then I felt awful. Even after all this time, he’s still my little brother… Last timeline you hid me and set up my death… after that you helped to escape to Capital… B-but Papyrus used you as bait… H-he had used water and the scars – “_

_Sans looks nauseous. “You need to rest”, Grillby says trying to keep his tone calm and soothing. If only he managed to get Sans to come with him, he might be able to take him to a healer. The bartender holds out his hand. “ **Please** Sans.” _

_The skeleton sighs, turning his head away. “Just go, Grillby.”_

_Grillby takes a step forward, stern look on his face. “ **No**.” _

_Sans’ eye flares up. “ **WHY**?! Why won’t you ever **LISTEN**?! You CAN’T save me! Why do you even care – “ _

_“I love you!” The flame blurts out, hoping, wishing that the other one would understand, would finally see it._

_Sans’ eye socket returns to normal as he stares at Grillby, dumfounded, trying to process those three words. “What…?”_

_The bartender sighs. He never thought he would be saying this out loud, but it’s true. “I love you. Why else do you think I would go this far? Why else do you think I would care?” The skeleton is silent for a long time, before his expression turns withdrawn and distant. “You can’t. It’s pointless. You’re wasting your time.”_

_Grillby feels angry. Angry with himself, with Papyrus and Sans. “Just listen – “_

_But Sans teleports. And it’s the last time the male sees Sans._

It hadn’t taken long for Papyrus to come and start causing havoc in his bar, searching for his brother. When it had turned out Sans hadn’t been there, the captain had stomped of, leaving Grillby behind.

The bartender had looked too in vain. Sans had simply vanished, gone without a trace.The flame had been so sure, what had happened, had been so certain that the fragile skeleton had –

As the fire man returns his apartment, he sighs. He can now forget that option. Grillby needs to look again, look harder and this time he would not give up.

The male takes Sans’ things to his room, putting them gently on the floor, before he himself sits on the bed eyes empty.

The skeleton with orange hoodie is the key, he’s sure of it. Whatever this man has offered to Sans, whatever tricks he has used to convince Sans to be at his care… Flame would unravel them, expose them...

If they are fishy or questionable –

-If he has hurt Sans –

…Then Grillby would give the stranger **HELL**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans: Grillbz, I'm fine  
> Grillby: WhY THe fUck yOU LyIng? WHy YoU AlWaYs LyIng? MMMmmmMMM Oh MY GoD StOp FuCking lYiNg!  
> (Sorry, I had to :'D). 
> 
> EDIT: GUYS GUYS I know this comes a bit late but lately I've been listening "it's over isn't it" from Steven universe and now I can only imagine Grillby singing that song with slightly different lyrics... I mean I just keep imagining him looking at San's Old sentry post for a moment and then start to sing it and move slowly and elegantly around it and at the "why can't i move on?" He sits slowly down in the snow... I just wanted to share this since this has been in my head for days now ^^"

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm.... that was joyful... who wants cookies?


End file.
